excerptteaser!
by zorrie
Summary: a chunk from the middle of a glitch DG oneshot major fluff in the works. rating should go up.
1. prologue

Gaaaaah. a little teaser, from the middle of a nice long oneshot i've got in the works. it's dg/glitch, of course! i should have it up by next monday at latest. for now...any and all input absolutely appreciated! (i think there's some ooc-ness)

i don't own tin man, DG, or -gasp- Glitch. although he was on my christmas list.

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Glitch smiled, grinned, would've jumped up and down on the spot flailing his arms if she hadn't raised an eyebrow, put a restraining hand on his bicep. Flailing, yes, that word was perfectly suited to describe what his heart was doing, the spaztic conniption it was having, tremors wracking through him as he unsteadily gulped for air.

Oh, my. But when she gave him that dazzlingly brilliant smile, shrugged her shoulders and ducked her head like that to hide a creeping blush—poor glitch's synapses didn't misfire, they spontaneously combusted, went off in fireworks. The way DG made him feel should have been illegal, it really should have been, because there was no telling what it was going to make him do.

Fireworks, millions of them, snapping and crackling and popping and oh! Glitch was about to explode.

Mouth open in an awestruck 'o,' he blinked and couldn't help feeling like a fish out of water. A fish suffering from mind altering substances and hallucinating such terribly wonderful things that it didn't even care it couldn't breathe. And because his synapses had just _poofed_ and gone up in a fireworks display, all glitch could do was blink. And so he did.

DG, unaware of the fireworks scorching her poor friend's skull, smiled broadly at his expression…and stifled a laugh. She _giggled_, then, very much amused by Glitch's reaction as she gave him a hug, standing on tip-toe to peck him tenderly on the cheek.

"Um…DG?" Shakily he hugged her back, wrapping one tentative arm around her waist and gazing fondly at the top of her head. "Did--did you mean to say you, like me like me?"

The woman in his arms began to tremble, and Glitch stepped back in sudden alarm, fear written clearly on his face. This was it! the beginning of the end—oh, stupid, idiot ignoramus Glitch; of course she didn't mean it like that. And he, he had to go and put his stupid foot in his stinking mouth and now, now surely she'd never look at him again—

"Ah," he pronounced in mortification. DG had been laughing…at him? He didn't remember making a joke. He supposed DG could've been laughing with him, which was strange, considering Glitch had to laugh for DG to laugh with him, didn't he? She'd been shaking a moment ago, however, and something absolutely hilarious must've occurred to cheer her up so quickly. Unless…she'd been shaking from laughter? That made sense. Yet he still didn't know why she'd been laughing. What was going on? Groaning internally, glitch resolved to see about getting the remains of his brain reinstated…thinking was beginning to drive him absolutely mad.

"You look like a deer caught in headlights, Glitch," DG chastised, stepping forward and enveloping his hand with two of her own. Puzzled by the phrase, Glitch frowned, earlier concerns momentarily forgotten.

"Headlights?"

"Oh, never mind," she murmured, focused intently on his face, looking for something he supposed. What was she trying to find there? At first the attention made Glitch uncomfortable, all the emotion in DG's eyes lancing straight through his to his very core. Unsettling, until he became aware of the detail in her irises, the chiseled high cheekbones and curve of her jaw…

…..

Cliffhanger! Mwap 8D

this wrote itself with none of my input

with some help from the Caesars and their song 'jerk it out'

did it suck?


	2. morning revelation

disclaimer: ...i wish it was mine:gusty sigh: i got four reviews and i only posted the teaser today--TODAY!-which has sent me reeling into such a wonderful mood that i offer you this. because i love you guys something apparently has glitch very cheerful...it has to do with DG...and i'm writing that something right now. but this is the morning after. backwards, hope you don't mind!  
what's this got to do with the oneshot? you'll see :wicked smirk:

It was positively the _strangest_ thing.

That morning had been nothing if not usual, in that satisfying way routines have of allowing one to get up and preform a wide array of actions without actually employing conscious thought. Conscious thought was a process Glitch tended to avoid utilizing.

He'd rolled over in the middle of one strange dream or another, tumbling to the stone floor in a flailing heap of bed linens and limbs. _Ow_. He'd tugged on one of the freshly pressed, clean shirts the seamstresses had supplied him with, changed into a pair of similarly freshly-pressed new pants, and washed himself up. There had been the standard pause where glitch mentally checked to see what he'd forgotten this time (last week he'd inadvertently worn his trousers backwards, and just yesterday attended breakfast lacking shoes). Once assured that he was, indeed, prepared to face the day, Glitch reverently donned his tattered coat and exited his room.

Yet something was undoubtedly different, and this time it wasn't that he'd neglected a few buttons while doing up his shirt or put his let foot in his right shoe and his right foot in his left (shoe, that is). The world seemed to have metamorphosed---transformed itself wholly--during the night, yet no one seemed to notice. and they called _him_ oblivious! hah!

The dining hall was majestic no matter what the circumstance, if solely for the grandeur lent by its monolithic size, the towering cathedral ceiling and majestic multitude of windows. Yet today the liquid sunlight streaming through the many windows and spilling onto the polished floor was especially bright, the colors infinitely more vivid, vibrant. The smiling faces around him had never seemed gayer, the contented chatter never more comforting, the delectable aromas wafting to his nose _never_ sweeter. Overcome with a mad impulse to spread the love, as it were, Glitch wanted so badly to give everything in the world one giant _hug. _The blatant alarm on Cain's face as Glitch practically chirped "Good Morning!" was enough to derail _that_ particular impulse...

How could everyone go about their lives as though this world they'd awoken to was _exactly the same_ as it had been when they retired to their beds last night? The birds were twittering and cheeping cheerily, the sky was a delirious azure expanse, and everywhere Glitch looked there was a striking beauty and lucid clarity that he'd never before experienced.

The world was _so_ beautiful. Stunning, even. Oh, yes, he was stunned.

"Glitch?"

He looked up from his plate, unable to repress his grin at the way she made his name sound—that must have been the most beautiful thing in the world—

Then his eyes fell on her. DG. Smiling shyly up at him and asking him to pass the French toast. DG. Saying his name. (poor glitch--instant seizure much?)

Fingers fumbling, mumbling profuse apologies as he struggled to grasp the platter and wishing his arms weren't shaking, Glitch was immensely grateful that at the very least he wasn't _blushing_. Those blazing blue eyes and that tousled chocolate hair, bangs all askew in the most endearing way, had reminded Glitch why everything was suddenly so beatific and lovely.

In one apocalyptic glance, DG set Glitch's synapses to sizzling. Once all coherencies had evaporated, recollections of the day before inundated Glitch's beleaguered mind in a flood that would've terrified Noah. It was the most terrifyingly wonderful blitz, and Glitch never, ever wanted it to end.

Even as she transferred several slices of French toast to her plate, DG's eyes never once left his. As for Glitch, he was too preoccupied with drowning in aforementioned eyes to realize or even care whether anyone noticed. It was like…gravity moved. DG was definitely the only thing in the world he had eyes for.

What glitch had been thinking when he called the world beautiful he certainly didn't know. because beautiful, heh…well beautiful would never begin to cover it.


	3. migraines and strange conversation

i apologize for my haphazard updates! i've relocated a good deal of what had been this chapter to my other story, BUT i made this much, much longer with lots more on the way which will hopefully help atone for my lack of organization /  
i'd also like to acknowledge the wonderful people who reviewed this story :D if it hadn't been for them this would not have been posted until Monday, when it would've been all done.

&&&&&&

Gaaaaaah. She hadn't drawn the drapes last night.

Pure morning sunshine streamed through the open window, giving the room a warm, golden glow. An errant breeze slipped through and ruffled the bed linens, tickling DG's cheek. Telling herself it was _just_ _to test the water_, DG cracked one wary eye open—and abruptly grimaced.

The light _burned_, damnit. She wanted no part, none at all whatsoever of this horribly sunshiny day.

With a groan, the youngest princess dove back under the covers, burrowing deeper into the down quilt. The pounding in her head was awful, a throbbing ache that felt as though it would shatter her skull to pieces. Sandwiching her head between pillow and mattress, DG languished in her bed and tried to glean comfort from the soothing darkness.

Nothing and no one was going to drag her out of this bed today.

Migraines _sucked_.

DG sighed in relief when the clatter of footsteps in the hall ceased, relishing the respite. Gratitude turned to apprehension when knuckles rapped lightly on her bedroom door, however. DG was loathe to leave her nest of blankets, and wistfully imagined sleeping all day, daydream unhampered by the knowledge that no one would ever allow it. whoever stood on the other side of her door knocked once, twice, three times more.

To be honest with herself, DG knew there was nothing for it but to face down her demons. You can run but you can't hide. Still, demons would have to wait until tomorrow, when she didn't have a migraine, because _this_ princess was not getting up today.

"DG?" the tentative voice interrupted her reverie, "it's me."

_Glitch_. There was an unintelligible mumble from the heap of blankets, sounding remarkably like a 'so what?' followed by a 'go away.' there was a scuffle as Glitch shifted uncomfortable from one foot to the other, and after a pause the heap of blankets muttered '_please_?' as an afterthought.

"Do you intent to barricade yourself in there all day?" he mused, perplexed.

"Maybe I do." DG replied from the safety of her fortress, in a very un-DG-like manner.

"I believe the heir apparent is sulking," Glitch informed the door, and was rewarded by an indignant string of colorful adjectives from DG.

After a great deal of deliberation, DG crawled out of bed with a wince and padded over to the door, eyeing it with blatant distrust.

"if I open this door it'll only be to inform you that I have plans for the day, and none include exiting this room or admitting anyone to it. And when I tell you to leave and you don't listen, I'm _not_ going to feel guilty," she said, mumbling the last line under her breath as an aside.

"Come out of hiding, doll."

The door handle turned, agonizingly slow, and suddenly Glitch was facing a frazzled DG, the most beleaguered he'd ever seen her. Her face looked drawn, dark smudges below puffy eyes emphasizing the pallor of her skin.

His shock must have been apparent, because a corner of her mouth pulled up into a crooked smile; putting aside her misgivings, DG stepped back with a sigh and held the door open, gesturing for Glitch to walk in.

The initial burst of elation seeing DG always brought to Glitch was dampened by her apparent distress. Glitch froze for a moment, unsure whether she really did want him to go away—he would, of course—but the thought hurt. Then again, maybe she hadn't meant it...Glitch didn't need Raw to feel the stress permeating the Palace, so heavy it was almost physically tangible. Maybe DG was just having a bad day. In which case he resolved to cheer her up, because of all people DG certainly deserved to have a good day.

Seeing his hesitation, DG grabbed the fumbling advisor by his tattered lapels and swung the door shut with a strained laugh. Something seemed off, Glitch noticed. The tone of her voice and the set of her jaw, the way she seemed to wilt under his puzzled stare—

"Hey, glitch…everything okay?" The query pulled Glitch from his reverie, and being Glitch he blurted what he'd been thinking rather than what he thought he should have spoken.

"I...I don't know. You don't look so okay." The words tumbled recklessly from his mouth of their own accord; it took a moment for the both of them to realize what he'd just said. Raising a hand to cover his face in mortification, Glitch peered through his fingers at a somewhat surprised DG. "Not that you look bad..."

"I'd, er, actually been referring to whatever brought you here," she said quietly, glancing at the clock on her nightstand, "considering the early hour and all."

Glitch brought his other hand up as well, the better to hide his face with. He hadn't even stopped to consider that she could've still been sleeping…it was too late now, he supposed. Everything seemed to have gone terribly awry, and what he'd been about to ask her seemed so frivolous now, especially considering the state she was in—

"But that's alright," DG continued, watching her friend visibly droop and being unable to stand any more gloom. Another head-splitting jolt of pain nearly sent her staggering, but DG forced herself to endure it silently…she felt as though it had been eons since she'd gotten to chat or joke with anyone, and no migraine was going to dictate her life.

"It's been awhile anyway, and if I have time to stand for dress fittings _nobody_ can say I can't afford to talk with my friends."

The ire in her voice made glitch smile, if only for a moment. The redness in her eyes was fading, but her pained expression made Glitch wish with more ferocity than he ever had before that he wasn't so awfully awkward. Already her company was putting him at ease, and all he could seem to do was put his foot in his mouth. Constantly. Slowly, glitch removed his hands from their protective position, clasping them awkwardly and twiddling his thumbs.

"It's absolutely terrible, isn't it? Here we are, with more reasons than ever before to be grateful, and you don't come across a _single_ person who isn't down-and-out disheartened." Nobody seemed to realize it, either, he added silently; and if they did realize they pretended they hadn't.

"Maybe the reasons to be grateful don't seem enough to carry us through the unpleasant at the moment," DG whispered. Glitch stopped his thumb-twiddling, taken aback.

"But that's ridiculous! Why—what were they expecting, instant gratification? It isn't even as though we're building an empire from scratch, which would certainly be easier. The effects of ten years of tyranny can't be erased, and there are people who aren't capable of understanding how anger can't bring their lost time back. We're being assaulted by obstacles that'll easily derail us if we let them, and things won't be any easier the farther we go for a long time yet."

"You realize that to the vast majority of people those aren't 'more reasons than ever to be grateful,' right?" DG smiled, "because I'm not encountering too much success following this brand of logic."

"Oh, I didn't mean to imply that anyone could get excited about the odds which seem to have forgotten to favor us. Only that with an outlook like this, we've got to realize how _much_ we've been able to do and be proud of it—not huff about how it's _still_ not enough! We knew it wasn't going to be."

In exasperation, Glitch shook his head as if to rid himself of the blatant idiocy of these people. DG looked at him rather queerly, but said nothing, digesting his words. Glitch himself was rather unfazed by the plethora of stumbling blocks in their path, buoyed by unsinkable and equally inexplicable optimism. She wondered where it came from, and envied him for it.

"Whichever way you look at it, you still end up in front of the same brick walls. And no matter how many times you ask 'Where do I go from here?' nobody's going to have an answer. It feels more than a little hopeless, but if we're hoping to get the OZ to work with us we're not going to win any votes like this." DG gave a groan and unceremoniously dropped into the chair near the window, tucking her legs under her and resting her chin in her hand. "How can we convince anyone we know what we're doing if we don't believe it ourselves?"

Glitch looked down at her and affected a comically flattered air. "I'm thrilled to know you believe I have an answer for you," he grinned modestly, looking for all the world like someone had asked him for an autograph. "The truth is, doll, that I haven't a clue. Nobody does; the ones who act like they have the solutions are doing just that: acting. We believe them because we're desperate enough for something to believe in. The sooner that's admitted, the sooner everyone works together and we have a chance of finding some real answers."

Seeming embarrassed at having issued such a lengthy reprisal—when he was _supposed_ to be comforting her—Glitch fell into the nearest seat, opposite DG, and found himself unable to pull his gaze away from the floor. "But that's just the way people are, you know," he chuckled softly, "and sometimes even knowing you _should_ be happy isn't enough to make you any less sad."

DG was silent, and Glitch worried that he'd inadvertently made things worse, which certainly he wouldn't put past himself. Upon looking up he found her watching him, those brilliant eyes riveted on his face. It sent all sorts of shivers up and down is spine, and Glitch became aware of an increasingly intense sensation in the pit of his stomach. There was something in her features which held him immobile, some unspoken question he knew he _had_ the answer to, and although he didn't know what that answer was he _knew_ he knew it. The air between them was nearly fizzing, the twisting in Glitch's stomach an exquisite type of torture, unbearably sharp even as he craved more of it.

"It's not simply the state of affairs here, Glitch. It's—there's no…I just don't understand, can't explain," DG suddenly burst out, faltering. Glitch knew the feeling of grasping at words that couldn't begin to depict the way you felt, was itching to tell her he understood, but his throat seemed to be paralyzed.

"I don't belong anywhere," DG lamented, eyes never once leaving his face. Glitch swallowed. "Naïve as it was, I'd expected this to feel _right_, being reunited with my family and back on native soil, the whole nine yards. But being born here doesn't change the fact that I'm not from here—I _grew up_ on the Other Side." Her voice broke, and Glitch grabbed her hand, gave it the slightest of squeezes.

"If you're from the Other Side, then, why not call it home?"

Glitch hadn't meant it as a rhetorical question, but wasn't surprised when DG didn't answer.

She shut her eyes for a moment, bit her lip. When she looked at Glitch again it was with pain, laced with a note of hysteria as she pulled her hand away, leaving his palm devoid of that wonderful warmth. DG rose, walked to the window, pressed her cheek against the cool glass. Unsure of what solace he could offer, Glitch watched in bewilderment, disconsolate.

"I don't even know who I am anymore."

The plaintive comment was so out of character for DG that Glitch wasn't even sure he'd heard it. Leaving his seat to stand by her side, Glitch put a tentative hand on each of her shoulders and turned her to face him.

"Neither do I, DG. Nor does anyone else, I suspect."

Glitch's words were truer than he knew. DG looked up at him, realized their proximity, wasn't even aware that she'd been relishing the closeness until Glitch stepped back and left her bereaved of his body heat. She stepped forward without realizing it, closing the gap between them as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Glitch returned the hug, albeit awkwardly, chalking it up to the blatant stress his friend was under even as his schizoid heart nearly catapulted itself through his chest in the instant she touched him.

"Glitch," DG mumbled into his chest, "this is one crazy world."

"mhmm," he agreed vehemently, violently torn between wanting to pick her up, there and then, and spin her around until she laughed in delight like she had as a child—Glitch recalled fondly a certain infectious grin that would light up any room—and fear that if he moved she'd leave, when he needed her so much closer.

Hello? Where had that thought come from? No, he had definitely not just thought about DG that way. Nope. Rewind, Glitch, back up. It's not as though she kissed you…although it wasn't an unpleasant—stop. Nope. Entirely, firmly grounded in reality Glitch carefully extracted his person from the _friendly_ hug. For the life of him, Glitch realized he hadn't the vaguest notion what had brought him to DG's room in the first place.

She returned his confused gaze, wondering if she'd done something which had caused him to break the embrace. It had felt oddly comforting, being held like that. DG blinked, wondering where that unsolicited thought had originated from. This was Glitch, of all people—

"If you ever need someone to talk to, Deej, you know I'm here, right?" he told her softly, looking as self conscious as she felt. DG mustered a smile somehow, as her head distinctly felt as though it were being pulverized one anguishing blow at a time. Glitch saw the grimace and hastily made to remove himself, attributing the discomfort to his presence.

"I'm terribly, dreadfully sorry," he apologized, wringing his hands and looking so dejected that it was all DG could do to restrain herself from kissing him on the cheek.

"For what?"

"I'm always putting my foot in my mouth, aren't I?" Glitch chuckled humorlessly. "I came here meaning to cheer you up and all I've managed to do is make you miserable."

This time DG did give in, standing on tiptoe to brush her lips lightly against his cheek. "That's a lie; you couldn't make anyone miserable if you tried. And you'd never be able to put up a decent effort, anyway. You couldn't do it," she teased knowingly.

"What, then, is it that's gotten you so down?"

"Ever had a migraine?"


	4. cain, curtains, dgXglitch fluff: oh my

a little peice of the oneshot monstrosity grown to ELEVEN pages in length last check. i have the beginning and end, but instead of waiting until the holes are filled in and posting the whole i'm giving you this snippet, which follows the NEW third chapter. see, the first half of the old third chap mutated into its own more than 2,800 word 'thing'; two thirds of chapter three is new content.

&&&

"I came here meaning to cheer you up and all I've managed to do is make you miserable."

This time DG did give in, standing on tiptoe to brush her lips lightly against his cheek. "That's a lie; you couldn't make anyone miserable if you tried. And you'd never be able to put up a decent effort, anyway. You couldn't do it," she teased knowingly.

"What, then, is it that's gotten you so down?"

"Ever had a migraine?"

&&&

Cain ignored the cramp in his legs after ascending one flight too many of those endless stairs. How he'd ever managed to walk down them in the dark an hour ago was beyond him. Now there was the early morning light, leaking through the windows and striping the floor with pale gold. Azkadellia's haunted face was burned into the back of his mind, eyes glazed with pain, staring vacantly ahead as she spoke. _Do you think I'm unaware of how many wonderful reasons I have be happy? Logic doesn't dull the pain. It needs no reasons to sustain it, and rationalizing has no effect. Depression just feeds itself, there's no justification for it._ As if he didn't know himself.

Coffee hadn't helped, the caffeine unfortunately seeming to have no effect on his system. Cain would wonder if maybe he hadn't had enough, but seriously doubted drinking another pot would have any more of an impact. It had been the strangest coincidence, that meeting, and Cain had taken away from it a new perspective.

There was a lot to think about.

No time being like the present and all, clearly the reasonable course of action would be to begin thinking right away, as it was sure to be a long process. The sooner he embarked on his journey of thought, the sooner he'd reach his hopeful destination of inner peace. Stifling a yawn, Cain admitted to himself that he was very tired indeed. No point wasting valuable time thinking if you weren't up to par mentally. Cain concluded, then, that the only sensible, sound thing to do would be nap. Preferably for an extended period of time. Immediately.

Traversing the hall as quickly as was possible while maintaining an air of dignity, maintaining just the right speed to keep his knee-length duster billowing out impressively behind him, Cain tried to ignore that naked feeling he had without his hat. Mind occupied as it was, Cain's super-sharp Tin Man senses honed from years of experience almost failed to pick up the strange sounds coming from DG's room. Blame it on sleep deprivation. In fact, he would have entirely passed by her door if there hadn't been a veritable clatter sounding somewhat like Cain imagined an elephant in a china shop might. It was, in fact, only Glitch stumbling backwards and upturning DG's bedside lamp in the process.

Rushing to aid DG in her perceived struggle, Cain valiantly kicked the door down, whose hinges protested with an extraordinary screech. He came upon a rather strange sight indeed.

----

"Hey, Glitch? Why are you looking at me so strangely?" DG questioned, looking up at him with an easy smile that belied the concern in her eyes. Glitch hadn't realized he'd been staring until she'd mentioned it, and hoped he hadn't been too obvious. Tried to laugh it off, but it came out all wrong, was too shaky; Glitch's heart skipped unsteadily as DG took a step towards him brow furrowed. The distance between them had never seemed so extensive, and Glitch suddenly found he was uncomfortable with being so far away, itching to be closer. The signal from his brain must've been intercepted somewhere along the way before it reached his feet, Glitch realized with a flash of horror as he stumbled.

Reflexively reaching for the nearest something to hold onto (DG's new curtains regrettably falling into that category) Glitch grabbed a fistful of fabric as he plummeted towards DG. The curtain rod caved, and in one awkward tumble Glitch found himself in a tangle of limbs and silk. The indignity of the situation didn't escape him, but neither did the fringe benefits of the rather compromising position he found himself and DG in. Lying on top of her was nothing like he'd ever imagined…oh no, he'd sworn he wouldn't start thinking those sorts of things because it was terribly hard to stop—

"I'm so sorry, my goodness, I'm sorry—" Glitch began, berating himself as much as he was apologizing to DG.

For her part, DG made a notably intrepid attempt to disguise the fact that she didn't find the arrangement as adverse as she should have. It was inappropriate at best, but she found herself wishing Glitch would stop apologizing profusely because it wasn't like she minded, unless you counted him _squirming_ so much in attempts to extricate his limbs. Couldn't Glitch just lie still for a moment if it wasn't _too_ much trouble so she could at least enjoy this properly? There was an unsettling silence as what could only be described as a creeping blush tinted Glitch's cheeks, which DG thought suited his complexion quite nicely and made Glitch look almost…cute…staring at her with those incredulous chocolate eyes wide as saucers…

"What did you just say, DG?"

"Hmm? What did I say?" she asked, puzzled. Glitch opened his mouth as if about to speak, but swallowed and closed it as though he couldn't quite form the words.

"Something about…me squirming…and—"

DG's eyes opened wide, her mouth falling open into a stricken 'o.' She hadn't meant to say any of that out loud. Or in her head, either. Those thoughts had just…thought themselves, that was right. the thing to do was deny it; if she could just make Glitch believe it was all due to some miscommunication in his mental processes then maybe she'd be able to look him in the face again.

"Me? I said that? No, nope. Absolutely did not. I said no such thing." What a pathetic attempt at deception; she couldn't even finagle her way out of lessons with Toto. Glitch had the good grace to seem self conscious, but misfiring synapses or no if he'd heard what he'd heard (which DG knew he had, but stoically refused to acknowledge the probability), forgetfulness did not usually entail imagining voices.

DG was dimly aware of frantic footsteps pounding in the hall, but it wasn't until the shriek of twisting hinges and splintering wood announced the end of her door that she realized someone would have heard the commotion.

That someone was standing in the doorframe, now absent a door, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the bizarre spectacle facing him. The youngest princess and Queen's retired advisor splayed across the floor and awash in a sea of sheer blue curtains was not a sight one saw every day.

expect an update tomorrow, if not at some crazy hour tonight!


	5. endorphins are wonderful things

the endorphins are utterly, TOTALLY Innogen's brainchild and if you find them funny, give her the credit! had she not left that spectacular comment, this chapter would not be what it was. i don't happen to own Cain, Glitch, DG, or the main staple of this chapter's somewhat-plot. some author i am D: i also aplogize for the delay in posting. thank you all for the wonderfully inspirational reviews, and i hope this chapter gets a few laughs out of you.

happy new year's, everyone!

_DG was dimly aware of frantic footsteps pounding in the hall, but it wasn't until the shriek of twisting hinges and splintering wood announced the end of her door that she realized someone would have heard the commotion._

_That someone was standing in the doorframe, now absent a door, eyes narrowed suspiciously at the bizarre spectacle facing him. The youngest princess and Queen's retired advisor splayed across the floor and awash in a sea of sheer blue curtains was not a sight one saw every day._

DG bolted upright, nearly knocking Glitch over backwards as their foreheads collided with a jarring thud. Cain, who had up until this point been watching with the bemused and slightly condescending air of a well entertained spectator, began to feel a bit concerned.

"_Ow_," Glitch cried out unnecessarily, massaging his bruised brow with a wince. "What was that for?" When DG offered no response, gazing dazedly at something over his shoulder, Glitch belatedly put two and two together. Where had all the noise come from a moment ago?

Twisting his torso and craning his neck to look behind him, Glitch found himself confronted by Cain's steely and possibly…worried...stare. Cain's-Pissed-Off-Death-Glare, as Glitch privately enjoyed calling it, almost explicitly heralded impending doom. However, the indiscernible trace (was he simply imagining it?) of protectiveness and faint flicker of paternal anxiety was a new addition.

"Hi, Cain! It's, er, nice to see you," Glitch greeted the stoic silhouette, "here." Choking slightly on the last word, Glitch suddenly realized he was practically sitting in DG's lap, and

and

…mmm, but it was so cozy and relaxing just sitting like this. Glitch wondered if DG was uncomfortable, because it would be a shame if she was, for it would mean she wasn't interested in staying like this a while longer. What right did Cain have to be examining him so incredulously?

"What're you doing here?"

Cain sighed hopelessly at Glitch's hapless oblivion and looked at DG despairingly.

"I could say the same for _you_, Zipperhead," he said pointedly.

Glitch made a gurgling sort of noise in the back of his throat, and DG attempted arranging her features in some semblance of insouciance as she prayed she wasn't blushing to the tips of her ears.

"It's not what it seems, you know," Glitch said stiffly. Although no one voiced it, the same thought occurred to all three (_no, it's definitely worse)_.

The daggers DG was attempting to shoot at the lawman from her eyes seemed to be missing their mark, and Glitch wasn't helping DG to focus her wildly scattered thoughts by resting his hand on her thigh like that. The pounding of her head escalated to inglorious new heights and she pressed the heel of her hand into her eye socket with such vivacity the men worried she might gouge an eyeball out. Cain seemed to be in good humor today, but his aroused suspicion concerning the relationship between DG and Glitch was something nobody needed—especially if those suspicions might be true. The key words there were_ might be,_ but DG told herself she preferred safety more than sorrow. At the moment neither DG nor Glitch was aware of just how obvious they were, and their attempts to dispel Cain's stipulations were something he was finding utterly amusing.

Unnerved, Glitch barely defeated the urge to pull the ruined curtains over his head and hide until it was safe to come out nearly. DG seemed to pick up on his inner struggle as Glitch began eyeing the fabric with evident intent and elbowed him accordingly. With a huff the chastised Zipperhead poked her side in retaliation, causing DG to burst into a fit of giggles and eliciting a snort from Cain. The Tin Man had been avoiding entering the exchange so far, but primed himself to intervene before the ludicrous situation overstepped the clearly defined boundary between amusing and reprehensible.

Deciding it was time to set things straight and prevent anyone (cough, Cain) from suffering under any misapprehensions, DG scrambled to her feet. Glitch came dangerously close to cracking his head open on the floor as the legs he'd been sitting on removed themselves; DG reached for his elbow as he thrashed in an attempt to regain balance, coming precariously close to falling herself.

Deciding to take action before they crashed through the window or something, Cain stepped forward and dragged Glitch upright by the collar.

"If someone would tell me what the _heck_ is going on, it won't become necessary for me to force an answer out of one of you.

"I don't believe _he_," and here Cain jerked his chin at his hostage, currently dangling by his coat and sputtering in aggravation, "is inclined to oblige, Princess, so you'll need to start supplying answers."

"Will you cut it out, Cain?" DG snapped, wishing they'd all go away and leave her to nurse her aching head alone at the very least, peace clearly being too much to ask for. "I have a migraine."

"Which explains the ruckus that's probably woken up the entire palace, and accounts for your…_arrangement_ on the floor with Glitch?"

Seeing an escape in this path the conversation had veered to, Glitch didn't even gripe about Cain's debasing comment on the floor arrangement, so absorbed in the torrent of information besieging is mind and reciting knowledge as it came to him.

"When something prompts the body to release Endogenous morphine, which are really small neuropeptides, it alleviates anxiety and depression—conditions that make chronic pain more difficult to control—because endorphins are chemicals that block pain signals from reaching your brain, and what with DG's migraine and all it seemed like the perfect solution—"

There was a stunned silence as they all—Glitch included—wondered at the strange, incomprehensibly scientific outburst. He really did tend to put his foot in his mouth, DG realized. What was so wrong with the plain, simply truth?

"Actually, he just tripped; thought holding on to my curtains would break the fall, too. So, no big," DG said, the words sounding pathetic in a way they hadn't in her head. "We just hadn't gotten around to getting ourselves to our feet when you kicked the door down."

"Tripped," Cain repeated, unconvinced and not troubling to hide it. "Conveniently landing on top of you." He shot DG a lopsided grin, releasing his hold on Glitch's collar without warning. Despite being somewhat shaken, Glitch was none the worse for wear and stepped away from Cain the instant he was confidently in control of his feet; it wouldn't do to push his luck. Then again, it was difficult to push something one didn't have, for luck was a quality whose lack Glitch felt acutely. Unbeknownst to him, DG was thinking the same thing…migraines, being caught by Cain in what probably looked like a, eh, saucy moment on the floor, the works.

"Well no, not really. Just joking," she babbled nervously, taken aback by Cain's unmasked antipathy. "Not a funny joke, got it. Glitch was absolutely right, though, it helped tons. The endorphins, I mean. You should, er, try it sometime. Works wonders with the pain alleviating," DG informed Cain with as straight a face as she could manage. Now _there_ was one hell of a mental image. _Note to self_: go along with Glitch when he happens to be struck by those spontaneous spasms of brilliance.

Cain wasn't the easiest man to unbalance, but when the rare expression of genuine, honest to goodness disbelieving shock crossed his face DG couldn't help from thinking it was supremely gratifying, overall. Risking a glance at Glitch from the corner of her eye, she saw him wearing the oddest look. As DG opened her mouth to question him, Glitch made it clear with the minutest shake of his head that now wasn't the time. She'd be sure to remind herself later.

"I need to see what I can salvage from the curtains, and then we should probably head down to breakfast," DG reminded them. _Anxious to be alone?_ Well, maybe a little (or more like a lot); still, there was a lot that needed thinking over.

"Need any help? Or can you two handle yourselves…?" Cain trailed off suggestively, provoking an outright affronted glare from Glitch. Cain blamed it on the coffee, the glut of caffeine in his system messing with his mood. His unsmiling visage was split by an aberrant smirk, the antics of his friends lightening the oppressive, omnipresent miasma of gloom considerably. Weariness was etched into every line of his face, soldered into the rigid set of his resolutely straight shoulders. A few laughs weren't entirely unwelcome. It was a welcome disruption to the stress and ennui, Cain reflected, and shocked himself with the thought. Just as surprising was how neither DG nor Glitch seemed to register what was clearly going on between them. Did he have to spell it out for them, scream it in their faces? Could it be they really were unconscious of the looks they gave each other, the way their shoulders bumped accidentally in the halls, how their hands brushed constantly over plates of toast at the breakfast table?

"Are you implying something?" DG asked, stuffing her hands into her pockets.

"You picked up on my lack of faith in your sense of self preservation? Perceptive."

"I assure you I'm capable of managing myself."

"I'll be taking my leave then, kiddo."

DG stood by Glitch's side in amicable silence as they watched Cain turn briskly on his heel and step around the ruined door, walking through the pitiable doorframe and into the hall.

Huh. Glitch registered belatedly that Cain hadn't been wearing his hat.

They were stationary for a moment, absorbed in gathering their own thoughts. The calm didn't last an instant longer, however, because that mysterious, peculiar look Glitch had worn after his outburst pertaining to certain stress-relieving, pain-alleviating endorphins was burned into the back of DG's mind, seared into her retinas. It had been hilarious, truthfully, and she wanted to know what had prompted it.

"Glitch? Were you thinking of anything odd before?"

He said nothing, shuffling his feet and shaking his head even as a blush tinted his cheeks. Laughing, DG tried to press him further but finally relented, deciding Glitch looked uncomfortable enough.

"We should, ah, get downstairs. Wouldn't want to miss breakfast, since it's the most important meal of the day," Glitch commented, in an exceptionally transparent attempt to change topics.

"Aw, don't worry. I'll fry you later, when we're both free. Let's go before someone thinks we're arranged on the floor again," DG quipped with calm that belied the energy silently humming beneath her skin. She was rewarded by a strangled hiccup from a dumbstruck Glitch. Priceless. The urge to hug him was irresistible, and she patted the harassed man on the back sincerely.

She left him frozen by the window, skipping to the door with renewed verve and imbued with the most satisfying feeling. Pausing a moment to look at Glitch, rendered mute and motionless by the audacity of her last comment, DG flashed a dazzling grin.

"My headache does feel better, by the way. Thank you."

She whistled all the way to breakfast.

A/N (again) was DG suddenly recovering from her migrine way too unrealistic? i wasn't sure where to go with that since i've never had one myself


	6. Chapter 6

it took forever and day to get this up, but i didn't want to post until i had at least the _next_ two chapters almost complete. hope this came out well :) i own nothing

Glitch couldn't help but wonder if DG had meant to sashay out of the room like _that_, and if so, why in the world she would purposefully do something so cruel to him. He stood in a stupor for a good ten minutes after she'd skipped through that door, mind replaying that transfixing swing of her hips on a endless loop. This was becoming ridiculous, developing into something uncontrollable. Even more disquieting to Glitch was the troublesome truth that he didn't particularly believe he wanted to control it, and for all the OZ he just couldn't bring himself to regret enjoying it. That smirk of hers was more alluring than she knew—Glitch was astounded at the goose bumps it gave him, breath catching on little jolts of pleasure as he recalled a certain pair of scorching cerulean eyes.

DG was drawing him into unknown territory, and it made Glitch's blood flash hot and cold in dizzying simultaneity. on the one hand, he was just about fizzing with excitement, but instinct warned him to be wary of these unfamiliar depths he was discovering within himself. Thus far he'd been content to settle, neither pursuing nor pushing away--and whatever outcome resulted, he'd accept. logic may not have been Glitch's domain, but as plans go it _seemed_ sufficient. Uncomfortable as he was in this new emotional climate, however, it was becoming impossible to resist becoming drunk on the thrill. Itching more and more each day to dive head first into these strange seas, Glitch found his defenses deteriorating with alarming speed.

Treading water and walking the line wasn't Glitch's style, and he was fairly sure Ambrose hadn't been a fence sitter either. United for once in pursuit of the same interest, both Glitch and what vestiges remained of the man he'd one been avowed their resolution to the empty room.

"I'm going after her." Speaking the words out loud somehow filled Glitch with strength, although part of his bold courage may have stemmed from naïve ignorance of reality. Glitch preferred to view himself as fully informed and continuing regardless, driven by the fervor of his devotion.

It was a wonderful feeling, and Glitch knew now how DG had felt while she whistled out of the room.

Of course, their friendship wasn't becoming romantic. Not in the least. There was such a very long way to go before there was any sort of that brand of intimacy between them. He wondered if DG felt it, though…the way his heart clenched when she said his name, the way his pulse leapt when he drew near her. The little details he'd never been aware of, like the way the dark arc of her lashes fluttered delicately against that pale skin when she closed her eyes, and how he couldn't recall anything more beautiful.

Breakfast was, in Glitch's mildly biased opinion, a disproportionately publicized affair.

DG, of course, had been enthusiastically bubbling with infectious euphoria. One look at Cain's tense, thin-lipped expression left no doubt as to _his_ mood. Glitch managed to enter unnoticed, relaxing visibly once he'd claimed a seat at the far end of the table without causing a stir. In fact, the light hearted conversation never paused; the anonymity made him bold, and combined with the aroma wafting from the platter of bacon, enticed Glitch to throw caution to the wind. Reckless as risking his cover was, reaching across the table for that sizzling side of bacon was a risk Glitch deemed well worth taking. Then, in a display of clumsiness such as only he could manage, Glitch's elbow upset a filled pitcher of water. Said pitcher smashed into a bowl of fruit with suprising gusto for an inanimate object, sending produce rolling into glassware and overturning mugs of coffee.

Unbelievable.

All chaos ensued, as the diners--suddenly all thumbs--managed to make more of a mess, if possible, as they scrambled hastily to salvage food and sop up puddles. Mortified and stunned by the catastrophic result of his ineptitude, Glitch sank his head in his hands and attempted to slide under the table. He could feel DG's gaze—hell, everyone's gaze—riveted on him, studying his every move. Today the world was determined to squash Glitch's good mood once and for all, it seemed.

"Show's over," Cain interjected, throwing a lazy smirk in Glitch's direction and proceeding to transfer a mountain of soggy hash browns to his plate. At ease again, the incredulous murmurs died off as breakfast resumed, Glitch's relief palpable as he straightened up. Air whooshing out of his lungs in a sigh of relief, he reminded DG of a turtle emerging from its shell in an endearing sort of way. She wondered what he was thinking.

At that moment Glitch was considering passionately declaring how he hated Cain from the bottoms of his hooves to the tips of the tines of his pitchfork—but he'd save that for later. It was humiliating having the portentous Tin Man come to his defense, and knowing he was more angered at his own ineptitude than Cain's condescending humor at his expense did little to soothe Glitch's raw nerves. The sting of wounded pride and disappointment in himself combined with the wondrous feelings DG unearthed, the way her laughter made this breakfast chatter a symphony of sound—this strange cocktail of emotions was beginning to disconcert Glitch's already significantly rattled mind. Gods help him, though, if Cain kept politely pretending Glitch was invisible--

Distracted as he was, Glitch still knew it was important to keep the pandemonium that was his state of mind concealed from the people around him. Memory lapses were something the majority of courtesans could understand, if not accept, considering the indicative zipper adorning Glitch's head. Mental instability was another matter entirely, and Glitch was fairly certain that swinging from joy bordering on manic bliss to childish repugnance wasn't healthy. The event of breakfast occurred around him, with Glitch making no effort to take part. One man resignedly left to attend his business, reminding the rest of the congregation what time it was; Glitch remained steadfastly sprawled in his seat as everyone stood to leave, the din of scraping chairs falling on deaf ears. He was too focused on DG, enthralled by the way she rose and walked away—she possessed none of her mother's delicate poise, or her sister's evocative elegance. No, DG had a manner of moving that was sure and effectual, an underlying toughness lending its own shade of grace to her steps that he'd never noticed.

There wasn't much for a man in his condition to do, although Glitch certainly tried. His own lab was a mystery, much like the gaping fissures in his mind, which Glitch could not seem to comprehend. There was familiarity, heartrending awareness that he'd once wielded these tools with fluent dexterity; there were disjointed thoughts, complex and irrelevant formulas, jargon and scientific spiel as intricately complex as it was extraneous. What good were calculations if he had no idea what they were intended for? _None_.

With such dissolute thoughts for company, Glitch gazed unseeingly at the wall for the longest time. Regardless of whatever he'd said to DG earlier to assuage her dread, Glitch found his feelings following the same route. _Whichever way you look at it, you still end up in front of the same brick walls. And no matter how many times you ask 'Where do I go from here?' nobody's going to have an answer. It feels more than a little hopeless… _

What the heck was happening to him? Everything had been so clear-cut and straightforward on the way here. Now that they'd reached the coveted destination that had been their motivation, seen soiled innards of the glittering citadel exposed, Glitch almost preferred the idealized fantasy they'd fought for. Of course it had been no bed of roses, and it was clear the responsibilities they assumed would be devastating, the task vast and brutal. What Glitch hadn't been counting on was the loss of his identity somewhere along the way. Even if the memories were lost, he knew now he'd once been Ambrose—whoever that was. Obviously, as it would to any half wit deficient in all sense of self, the prospect of regaining his brain (and lost life) imbued Glitch with a function. The cluelessly sanguine Zipperhead without a coherent thought in the world and nowhere to go was destroyed in the instant Glitch learned the truth about himself. Knowing that he would never become Ambrose, never reclaim what had been unjustly thieved, left Glitch in a state of flux, devoid of identity.

_I don't even know who I am anymore. _

Seemed like DG wasn't the only one. Looking about the deserted room—how long ago had they gone?—Glitch felt a twinge of liability and knew the right thing to do would be to shelve his insecurities and make himself valuable. Loafing was despicable, given the state the rest of the OZ was in; not a single soul in this Palace had even one moment to think of themselves, burning candles at both ends as it were. Getting to his feet and crossing to the door, Glitch contemplated offering the Queen whatever assistance he could provide.

Turning the doorknob warily, half expecting it to come away in his hand—who knew, with his recent streak of luck?—Glitch knew he couldn't. Wouldn't. Whichever.

_Selfish, selfish slacker_.

For whatever masochistic reason, he pushed the heavy oak door open and turned right, headed towards Ambrose's lab; that was guaranteed to send him for a good guilt trip.

What a morning, DG mused sarcastically, what a hell of a morning. Calling to mind that awkward meeting in her room flushed her cheeks with the sheer _memory_ of Glitch lying on top of her; Cain hadn't been precisely subtle about the conclusions he'd drawn, either. Unless he'd been sarcastic in what he'd said. Considering that possibility opened up whole new avenues of thought DG tried very hard not to dwell on. Half the time she wasn't even sure if he meant what he said, and for all she knew Cain could've been stringing her along the entire time making jokes about her 'floor arrangement.' The man was impossible.

Following her sister out of the dining hall, DG cast a backward glance at Glitch, slumped in his chair and oblivious to the emptying room around him. He didn't see her, occupied with staring blankly at nothing in particular and such, allowing DG the freedom to blatantly examine his face. Her eyes fell on the thin line of his lips, the furrowed brows and vacant, haggard eyes. So he'd spilled something; it wasn't the end of the world, was it? Stifling a flicker of irritation and an exasperated huff, DG marched down the hall in step with Az.

"Mother's convening with the security detail again, and you're to study with Tutor for the next several hours while I help Father with the results from reconnaissance." Shooting a sidelong glance at her sister, Azkadellia weighed her words carefully. "With tensions this high and everyone on edge, it's hard enough to learn without being closeted away in that stifling library. It's wasted time, although no one admits as much. I assumed you have something better to do."

DG looked at the tentative smile playing on her sister's lips and understood what Az was trying to say; she felt her heart leap to her throat at the gesture. "You actually finagled me out of lessons with tutor! Oh, Az, do I owe you one," DG laughed, impulsively tackling her sister with an overzealous hug.

"No, you don't. But I'm glad I could make you so happy."

"Happy isn't even the word for it; I mean, a genuine day off! Those are rare, precious and something I took for granted entirely too much back in Kansas. Weekends don't exist for royalty, so I've learned."

Although the phrase 'weekend' meant nothing to her, Az sympathized with DG's need for space. "Enjoy your day, sister."

DG beamed from ear to ear, more proud of Az than she could express. Rather than fumbling with words, she gave her sister one last squeeze and headed for the double doors which lead to freedom. Az watched her go, wishing she could follow. Instead, she strode to Ahamo's study, back ramrod straight as obsequious skirts trailed out behind her.

DG shuffled haphazardly through the leaves, watching them sink into glittering puddles and drift to the bottom. She'd spent the majority of her day reflecting on her life at the moment, drawn conclusions she'd rather not think about. Going for a walk had brightened her mood as the hours flew by, and although running from her problems would do little to solve them it was a comfort for the time being, and one she thought she'd earned the right to occasionally indulge in.

Try as she might, serving as some symbolic larger-than-life icon to the people of the OZ was ripping her apart, and there were times DG wasn't sure any sense of self remained. The OZ needed to be rebuilt, requiring faith and cooperation of the masses. To this end DG could be the perfect beacon of hope, if only she'd say more things like _this_ and smile like _that_. The miniscule alterations piled up gradually, and DG had finally understood that etiquette was merely a preamble; they were priming her for the elaborate facades she would someday assume, the pretenses she was required to uphold and the charade her life was already becoming. Like a flag strung up to wave courageously from the highest turret, DG was the figurehead on the Royal ship's prow.

Everything looks perfect from far away; she must appear to live the most idyllic life of them all. Did anyone realize that every bone in her body ached to be down there with the rest of the world, eye to eye with the people she was trying to help, on their level?

Slogging glumly through the forest's wet undergrowth immersed in melancholy, DG's foot caught on a fallen branch; lurching forward, her cheek hit damp earth with a squelch. Fantastic. Scrambling to her feet and spitting out dirt with a few muttered oaths, she realized for the first time that the light struggling through the filter of leaves was fading fast. God knew what fury of her mother's missing dinner would incite.

DG knew every fir in this forest, lithely winding between massive trunks on the most expedient route towards the palace—she couldn't bring herself to call it home. Even with mud streaked clothes and trees towering above her, DG felt detached and far away, as though she were watching some other girl dart through this darkening forest.

Breaking into a sprint, DG left the fringes of the wood behind and headed east. She'd slip in through one of the servants' side entrances and change into presentable clothes before attending dinner; the mud was no inconvenience to DG, but she was in no mood to secure herself a well intentioned lecture on acceptable attire. Within a matter of minutes she'd reached the door, but she couldn't wrench the damn thing open.

DG blew into her cupped palms, attempting futilely to thaw her frozen fingers and vehemently cursing the cold when her hands remained as numb as ever. One furious kick finally did the trick, and she entered through the kitchen's rear entrance with a sigh of relief, relishing the warmth. The pain had dulled to a surreal, elusive memory tugging at the ache in her chest. Pausing briefly to enjoy the hearth's warmth, DG watched the merrily leaping tongues of flame and stifled the urge to jump into the inferno. With the temperature as low as it was DG doubted even fire could defrost her.

Despite the epic blockbuster of a voyage she'd endured to retrieve the Emerald of the Eclipse, she was still a sheltered teenager with an optimist's naiveté. Dispossessing her sister of the malignance she'd harbored for so long had been the first of a million steps towards normal. She'd made the mistake of assuming that finding the right direction would be the hardest part, that it was a simple matter of moving straight forward from there. Of course there would be ups and downs, but so long as she believed she was doing the right thing DG could face any impasse, overcome every obstacle, right?

Had she ever been more wrong? She'd never imagined feeling so hopeless, lacking the one thing—conviction—that made all the difference. DG exhaled and watched her frozen breath hover in the air, unwilling to face the music just yet, sick of flashing brilliant, false smiles to deferential courtiers. Drifting through the halls aimlessly, DG wandered down passageways while her mind traversed similarly dark corridors of thought.

DG found herself coming to a halt in front of Glitch's lab, the lab where so many of Ambrose's wildest inventions had been conceived and brought to life. Most likely it would be empty, considering that her friend was probably dining with the rest. Deciding she could use some peace and quiet to soothe her frazzled mind, DG pushed the door hesitantly open—_what's the harm_?

This was wearing him down, Glitch mused with a sigh, leaning back against the wall and sliding gradually into a weary slump of tattered clothes and gangly limbs on the floor. The creaking of hinges brought his gaze snapping up to clash with those blue eyes he'd been avoiding--with apparent futility. Licking dry lips and wondering why his throat was suddenly so thick, Glitch gave a halfhearted smile. DG stepped forward, letting the door swing shut behind her.

Somehow, she had a hunch she wasn't the only one feeling wretched. Oh, Glitch.

Moving towards him, coming perilously close to upsetting dusty glass flasks and tarnished gears in the process, DG wondered why in the world it had to come to this. When did things begin to fall apart?

The fragile world they'd saved was deteriorating, depreciating, and plummeting towards rock bottom. Lunging to catch it, all DG had managed to do was skin her knees and watch in horror as it shattered in her hands. Clutching the jagged shards tighter, slicing her hands open on the serrated edges, she finally admitted that where to go from here was something she'd never known in the first place, least of all not now.

"You look lost," Glitch said softly, and DG wondered how he knew.

"Yeah," she answered feebly, "I'm feeling a little under the weather. Speaking of which, is it normal for the temperature to drop so far so fast?" To illustrate her point, DG rubbed her arms in an effort to revive her circulation.

"Not particularly. Even without factoring in the wind it must be below twenty degrees out there, and all before winter! I believe everyone's worried, and rightly so. This is the most frigid fall I've ever had the displeasure of experiencing." DG's attempt to veer the topic away from her mental wellbeing wasn't unnoticed by Glitch, but he abstained from commenting. As much as Glitch would have liked it, he couldn't be the one to save her—he needed to get his feet back on the ground himself before he could offer any sort of support. Was there anyone who didn't need saving? A sad, sardonic smirk twisted his features as Glitch realized there wasn't a single soul exempt from the strain; some handled stress better, of course. There must be some secret of the trade; had he known it as Ambrose? Was that the reasoning behind the introverted, reticent ways? Certainly Glitch, being the dreamer, a hoper, a wisher, a believer…certainly he was having considerable difficulty accepting the restraints of refined living. Fighting the inevitable conversion every step of the way was no great help, either, he reckoned.

"Cold, but beautiful," she commented, eyes drawn to the small window tucked away near the far end of the room and its view of barren trees, silhouetted against a drab, grey sky.

"Almost." Following her gaze, Glitch tried to see the beauty in such a bleak, stripped scene.

DG bent to offer Glitch a hand in getting up; he took it. Straightening up and brushing the dust off his coat, he stepped back and re evaluated the situation. Hmm. Public humiliation at breakfast; some hours sulking despondently in the comforting gloom of his lab; a happenstance meeting with DG, coincidentally similarly inclined to misery. However he phrased it, no euphemism disguised the fact that he'd been acting rather pathetic. He was ashamed to admit it, but he'd given up on himself. Gods only knew why DG hadn't given upon him—yet here she was…

"We should get out of this musty old lab and into the real world, you know," DG chastised, starting reluctantly towards the door. When Glitch made no move to follow, DG rolled her eyes and put one hand on her hip in an endearing display of aggravation. Grabbing her elbows and tugging DG away from the door, he raised an eyebrow in mock deign.

"We should," he agreed easily, "but do you really want to?"

"In case you hadn't realized, Glitch, that's irrelevant. When you've got the responsibilities we do, what you want and need have no meaning at all. We're not ourselves anymore, we're not people. We're titles and icons and emblems, and we're restoring the OZ. Things really are as simple as that, and whatever identity we had before is behind us now. Ready or not, it's time to accept the hand we've been dealt."

"I don't think I have ever seen you so bitter, Deej; no, I know I haven't," Glitch murmured, tightening his grip on her elbows.

"Don't you think I've earned the right to a few lamentations?" DG whispered, afraid her voice would break. When had Glitch ever been this composed? The intensity of his gaze made DG want to look away while it held her transfixed as she'd never been before.

"Frankly, no. Lamentations are useless things, excuses and self-justification and all that. They're smokescreens for self pity, DG, and they get you nowhere, do nothing at all. I'm not saying you haven't been through enough to have every reason to want to wallow. I'm saying you're _better_ than that; you're too smart to debase yourself like that. What's the matter?"

"You want the whole list, or just the top ten?" her attempt at dry humor came out with a flippancy that made them both cringe.

There was a pause as Glitch bit his lip, "I mean it, DG. Once you get started down that road it's hard as all hell to get your life back. You think wallowing in grief is going to make you feel so much better, when all it does is make you emptier than before. If there was ever anything to avoid, believe me when I say pity is it."

"You've been there." It wasn't a question. "I don't think I've ever seen you so frantic; no, I know I haven't," she smiled, parroting his comment.

"Just trying to make something positive out of my mistakes and save you some disillusionment," he said quietly, "if that's okay."

Unsure of what to say in response, DG nodded, prying his fingers off her and clasping his hands in her own.

"Still want to get some air?"


	7. rain and mazes

i've been attempting to dig my way out of veritable homework mountains, but figured i'd better update before someone takes me for dead ;

i know it's short, especially after the last chap, but it's something! thank you once again to my reviewers, and again and again--and again, because it's a belated thanks at best.

Somewhere along the line these evening strolls had become an unspoken routine they shared, and tonight was an especially fine opportunity for Glitch to get around to asking DG that one question burning a hole on the tip of his tongue. It'd been raining on and off for days now, but as he and DG wandered through the garden maze, the wind bit like a sword's steel blade and the sky darkened. Shivering, DG rubbed her arms to keep warm as a gust scattered the errant leaves near her feet, blasting debris through the air.

"Just _great_," she mumbled dolefully, watching the rain grow heavier, "absolutely splendid." A strong arm wrapped around her waist from behind, and DG leaned into Glitch's chest.

"Chilly?" DG rolled her eyes at the absurd question, but didn't pull away.

"Not in the slightest. As a matter of fact, I happen to enjoy this weather immensely. Nothing like a good, dreary, wet and dismal day—my favorite."

Glitch grinned and rested his chin on her shoulder. "I know what you mean. Isn't it wonderful?" he let DG go and turned dreamy chocolate eyes to the sky, water streaming down his face in rivulets while DG laughed.

"You can keep standing like that all day, but I'm not going to be drenched," she informed him, pushing a sodden lock of hair behind her ear. That said, DG stomped—staggered was more like it, really, her legs were so numb from the cold—past him and made a left, taking the most practical route towards the refuge of the Palace. Why they'd troubled to leave the warm, dry climate of what DG could only describe as the OZ's equivalent of a den, with its roaring, toasty hearth and comfortable couches, was beyond her. Glitch had seemed so anxious to get her alone, and she'd passively agreed, assuming he'd wanted to talk to her without the anxiety of wayward ears eavesdropping. Well, burning questions or no it was frigid and they were both sodden; seeing Glitch still gazing at the sky, DG trudged back to him and valiantly tried persuading the man to move before they both became ill.

"I won't hesitate to forcibly drag you to shelter," she warned with a worried frown, "GLITCH! Am I breaking up here?" Increasingly frustrated by the lack of response, DG jumped up and down in front of him, waving her arms like a deranged windmill trying to get his attention. When all else failed, she attempted to haul him by his lapels.

Abruptly severed from his reverie, Glitch stared at DG in bewilderment—her face was inches from his own, close enough for him to count the dewdrops dotting her lashes like sequins blinking in the light.

"DG?" Glitch's gaze flickered involuntarily to her lips, surroundings fading fast into a vague and hazy blur. Feeling herself inconceivably drawn towards him, as the ground seemed to quake beneath her feet, DG felt a stab of panic. There was a strange roaring in her ears, like the bellow of the wind as she'd rocket down highways on her motorcycle; there were pinpricks of a craving she didn't understand, a voice in her mind blaring incomprehensible things. There was something she wanted, needed—but what? Something evidently so obvious that she _knew_, she had to know—but what was it? What was the source of these unfamiliar emotions, the antidote to this mystifying malady which left her tossing and turning on so many nights? DG stared at Glitch, feeling instinctively that there was an answer in his dark, topaz eyes.

The palpable charge in the air made any semblance of coherency unattainable, and DG realized balefully that Glitch had almost certainly forgotten his 'urgent' memorandum.

"Goodness, but it's _wet_ out here; let's head back, Deej. What do you think?"

"I won't even bother to answer that," DG replied, feigning offense.

"All right then!" Glitch grabbed her arm and began to plow his way through the maze, creating shortcuts when necessary.

Trying to remove foliage from her hair, DG dug her heels in after the fifth time and refused to shove herself through the bushes. "Why can't you just follow the path instead of forging your way through the shrubbery? Why the hell are you dragging _me_ through the shrubbery? I'm going to walk myself _out_ of this maze while you run through it, and we can meet at the exit."

"Oh, get over yourself. The shortest distance between two points is a line, DG—this is the most expedient route home, and it is raining."

DG spluttered, fuming at that last, and tried to pry his fingers off her elbow.

"Alright, take the circuitous, twisty way out. Apparently there's no way to impress such flawless logic as mine upon your wayward mind, but its okay." his smile wasn't even patronizing, his tone devoid of guile—the man was utterly serious.

"Oh no you don't—Glitch, if you think I'm going to leave you traipsing around in the rain—" Taking his hand, she stomped through the first hedge to block her way, dragging Glitch in her wake. "You'll forget what you're doing here or something, and spend a week wandering around like an idiot, while I drive myself nuts wondering if you're hurt."

_Reverse psychology really does work_, Glitch murmured to himself, and couldn't suppress a gleeful laugh. DG stopped abruptly and shot him a quizzical glance, wondering what about her comment had been so funny. Doubled over now, Glitch was all but rolling on the ground in a fit of hysteria.

"You're incorrigible," she told him, hands on her hips.

Eventually, though, the infectious laughter won.


End file.
